


A Normal Winchester Christmas

by Strawberry_Champagne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comment Fic, Community: comment_fic, Drabble, Gen, Pre-Series, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-15 23:57:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2248161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strawberry_Champagne/pseuds/Strawberry_Champagne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester has been looking forward to his class Christmas party for weeks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Normal Winchester Christmas

Sam Winchester had been looking forward to this day for weeks. As the day drew closer, his class colored pictures of reindeer, did math problems counting ornaments and watched part of Frosty the Snowman in the library. But the best was yet to come. Last Friday, Ms. Keane had sent red pieces of paper home with each student to let their parents know that the day before winter break, they would be having a party. They were encouraged to bring cookies to share with the rest of the class, and to wear red and green, or even a Santa hat if they had one. This was a treat in itself, since hats weren't usually allowed in school.

Sam’s thoughts drifted back to the afternoon he brought that paper back to the rundown house they had been renting--a rare instance where Dad’s work kept him in one spot just a bit longer than usual. He had dug it out of his backpack and eagerly scanned what words he could read.

“What’s that?” Dean trudged over and snatched it out of Sam’s hand before he could answer. “Huh.” He let it drift back to the floor, where Sam picked it up, smoothed out the creases and glared at his older brother’s back as he walked back over to the couch. Later, as the day of the party approached, Sam would pull everything out of their cabinets looking for ingredients to make cookies, eventually give up in frustration as Dean rolled his eyes at him as if to say what did you expect?

That morning, a bag of store-bought chocolate chip cookies had appeared on the counter. 

“Dad always comes through,” said Dean, nudging Sam with his elbow. Sam was pretty sure that their dad hadn't even been home to know about the party, but he didn't say anything about that to Dean. He was supposed to be too little to notice the crumpled receipt on the table, the change jangling in his brother’s pockets.

Sam, dressed in a red T-shirt, set the cookies on the table with the others proudly. There was no schoolwork to be done that day, so they spent the morning singing Christmas carols and wrapping garland around a scraggly tree in the corner of the room. Each child had made an ornament with a picture of their family on it a few days before, and as their names were called they got to hang it up. On Sam’s, Dad had an arm wrapped tightly around each of the boys; it was taken about a year and a half ago, but he was glad Ms. Keane didn't ask him if he didn't have anything more recent.

The teacher was in the middle of reading a story when someone knocked on the door. She called for them to come in, in that high, cheerful voice of hers, and all the students seated cross-legged on the rug looked back to see who it was. The door opened to a tall, gruff-looking man with tired eyes and stubble on his cheeks. It was the person that Sam most wanted to see, and the least.

“John Winchester. I’m here to pick up my son,” said Dad. Ms. Keane was rising to her feet, saying ‘yes, of course,’ and Sam’s heart dropped into his stomach. They hadn't gotten to eat the cookies yet. They hadn't gotten to drink the hot chocolate. There was going to be games and a movie. It wasn't fair, and the rebellious moisture that threatened to spring into his eyes—not in front of Dad, never—made him even angrier.

“Now, Sammy.” Dad gave him a stern look, and between that and his tone Sam knew that they were leaving again. It would be so much easier if he were more like Dean, could say ‘yes, sir’ and march out with his head held high. Not Sam; he stuffed the contents of his desk into his backpack, practically ripped the ornament off the tree and allowed one last, lingering look around the classroom. Multicolored lights blinked on and off around the window frames—his friends stared, not knowing, as he did, that they would probably never see him again. Outside, the Impala idled in the parking lot, exhaust puffing out like their breath in the cold winter air.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on February 9, 2010 in the Livejournal community comment_fic. That week's prompt posts have been deleted.  
> Prompted by: unknown  
> Theme: unknown  
> Prompt: Supernatural, wee!Chesters...something about Christmas, I assume?


End file.
